Promise Me Thy Ruin
by xXfireXflyXx
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, sixth year prefect, Gryffindor, Chaser. Tom Riddle, fifth year prefect, Slytherin, Seeker. Someone's been attacking Muggleborns, and a strange sort of romance is blossoming, one which no one, especially the participants, expected.
1. Shin Guard

Hello hello (:

This is my Tom/Minerva ficlet, based on the one-shot called 'I don't smile, Mr. Riddle, not for you'. It's sort of the background story for all that... I appreciate reviews and constructive comments, but the story is already finished. I wrote it about a year and a bit ago, so I don't think I'll actually be changing a lot of stuff. But the sequel only has one chapter written. Maybe one day I'll finish it. :\

Anyway. ENJOY!

* * *

The crowd roared thunderously as Minerva raced ahead, urging her broom to catch up with the speeding Slytherin Chaser. With her hair pulled back in a restricted bun, she hurled through the air, successfully snatching away the Quaffle at last.  
"Don't just sit there being smug!" Ruben Fletch, her captain, shouted, motioning toward the Slytherin rings, "Go! Go! Go! Go!"

She took off across the pitch, dodging a few opposing players and making some random passes to keep the other team confused. However, in the end, it was Minerva McGonagall, Gryffindor Chaser, that scored the point. A victory lap around the field, accompanied by her fellow Chasers, was necessary, and when they fell back into the game, Slytherin was once again in possession of the Quaffle. Letting out a frustrated groan, she held back this time, letting her other two teammates, Hector and Zachary, take the spotlight this time. They enjoyed it so much more then she did; Minerva played for the rush.

She weaved between two of the Slytherin Beaters, narrowing avoiding getting a Bludger to the head as she flew past the teachers' stand, then felt something by her ear. A humming noise echoed inside, and she swatted at what appeared to be a bothersome little fly. But, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a pair of golden wings fluttering delicately with lightning speed.  
The Snitch!

She called for the team's Seeker, Elizabeth O'Harris, and pointed to the glittering ball that was flying around her head, obviously enjoying a world all to its own. The blonde nodded and flung herself into action, racing toward Minerva with frightening speed. Despite her best efforts, the Slytherin Seeker had beat her to it.

"Stand aside, McGonagall," Tom Riddle sneered, swooping around her and diving in for the Snitch whenever he got the chance, "Takes people with skill to handle the Snitch."  
Her temper rising, Minerva swerved out and slammed herself into the fifth year boy, wincing at the harsh contact their shoulders made. While she could just barely tolerate the arrogant snot, he was a bloody good Quidditch player, and needed to be held off for as long as Elizabeth needed to capture the prize.

"Feisty today?" Tom laughed, his laughter coming out as more of a bark than anything, "Come now, no need for that."  
"Piss off, Riddle!"  
"Language, language..."

He ducked under her as she tried to hold him away from the Snitch, then zoomed off after Elizabeth, who was in hot pursuit of the little golden ball. It didn't matter that Gryffindor was finally leading seventy to ten; if Riddle caught the Snitch, the game was over.

Before she had even finished the thought, the game was over. Tom had shoved Elizabeth out of the way, and unfortunately she lost control of her broom, and ended up slamming into the side of one of the stands. The medical nurses were out in a mad rush to see if she was all right, and while Minerva thought it would have been kinder if she cared more about her fallen comrade, her only thoughts were on their defeat against Slytherin. This was the third time that season, after the winter holidays, that they had lost against Slytherin. It was now Slytherin and Hufflepuff in the lead, leaving Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to battle it out for one of lower places in the grand scheme of things.

Minerva McGonagall was not a delicate girl, which was her main reason for trying out for the house team. She enjoyed the roughness of playing sports almost as much as she enjoyed her lessons. She was a brilliant young woman, her grades some of the highest in her year, and her plethora of friends outstanding. It was a goal of hers to have a friend in almost every house, even Slytherin. That hadn't exactly been working out, but she would still try from time to time.  
Standing about five feet seven inches off the ground, she was an average girl of sixteen, with lengthy raven black hair, small eyes and thin lips. Keeping fit during training sessions managed to work off the baby fat many girls in her year were still clinging to, though she wasn't particularly large in the chest reason. A modest B cup, if one could call it that, was all she really needed anyway. It was easier to get things done with the boys in her classes if they weren't staring down her shirt, desperate to get a glimpse of something. It's not as though they hadn't tried yet; it just didn't happen very often.

Her passion within Hogwarts was Transfigurations, so much so that she would stay with Professor Dumbledore for hours on end on a Saturday night, just to discuss the likelihood of new spells and movements of the past. Many of her friends called her insane to just sit around with a teacher when she could be out enjoying the teenage life, but to that she merely replied that life isn't always going to be this easy, and one needs to learn how to survive in it at an early age.

Her temper was shorter than she would have liked to admit, and when she was in a snit over something, usually something insignificant, her friends made note to steer clear of her until she had blown off some steam, which would take days. It's not like she minded, really; at least they understood her enough to know how to handle her violent temper.

With an English mother who was always working, and a Scottish father who liked to drink in their basement of their Yorkshire home, Minerva had a mix of both in her. While her accent was generally English, there were times that hints of a Scot would slip out, usually when she was speaking at rapid speeds, and her friends would poke fun at her whenever they could get the chance. Sometimes she would lay on a thick accent, just to entertain people; it was always nice to make people laugh, but only when appropriate.

"Captains... I want you to shake hands," Madame Flint, the flying instructor, ordered, standing firmly between the two house teams with her hands on her hips, "It was a good game... Only one injury."  
"Two if you count the Gryffindor ego," Tom piped up, his teammates snorting as Madame Flint beamed at him. She had _always_ favoured the Slytherins, being a former house member herself, and Minerva was sure the woman would say Slytherin won even if they lost miserably.  
Ruben stepped up, grasping Albert Goyle's hand awkwardly, both looking as though they wanted to break each other's bone before letting go. Goyle was a big bloke; he probably could break something if he tried hard enough.

"Wonderful," Madame Flint boomed, clasping both boys on the shoulders, "Now hit the showers, all of you."  
Minerva turned away, noticing immediately the absence of the only other girl on her team. Showering in a communal change room was irritating. It wasn't as though the boys on her team were pigs and wanted to have a look every two seconds, but there had been moments where Elizabeth and Minerva were forced to hex one of the nosy buggers into some form of strange frog just to teach them a lesson.

"Was a nice try, McGonagall, very valiant," Tom Riddle snorted as the two teams walked back towards the shower area, "I'm sure it'll just take some time for the Gryffindor team to build up the real skill to beat the Slytherins-"  
"Piss _off_, Riddle," Minerva snarled, turning toward him so suddenly he almost walked into her, "Unless you want me to change you into a bloody newt, which I'll do in front of everyone, I'd suggest you bugger off and go have your nancy time with your boys in the showers."

Her teammates sniggered at the stunned Slytherin as Minerva stalked off toward the showers, deciding she may as well grab her clothes and just change up in the dormitory.

"Don't let him get to you, Minerva," Ruben muttered, nudging her shoulder when he caught up to her, "He's just being a pest because he knows you have the temper to keep him entertained."  
"You saying I've got a bad temper, Fletch?" Minerva demanded, shooting him a look. He shrugged, "What, you think you're some calm angel or something?"  
"No... I don't think that," she admitted, "But I don't think it's that-"  
"How can you finish that sentencing without laughing?" Hector inquired, patting her on the back as the entered the Gryffindor change rooms, "Nice game, McGonagall... We'll beat Ravenclaw for sure... It'll only be a matter of time before we play Slytherin again."  
"True," Minerva sighed, knowing they were the better of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams, "But we've got a lot of training to do..."  
"I'm going to ask Dumbledore to pencil us in a few more nights a week for practices," Ruben informed the team as the boys began removing their shirts, tossing them all into a pile for the house elves to collect later, "We'll be staying up later, and working harder, so I want all of you to make sure you're on top of your schoolwork. I don't want anyone missing anything. Understood?"

There was a clamour of complaining and comprehending grunts as Minerva gathered up her belongings and headed out of the change room, ignoring the call someone made for her to ask if she'd like to stay for the show.

Grinning, she opened the door briefly, shouting, "What show?"

There were a few insults flung back at her, but they were muffled behind the wooden door as she made her way back toward the castle in the evening air, the coolness of the breeze drying her sweaty skin properly. It wasn't a long walk back to the castle if one was to not use the path. It wound itself around so much that it was just easier to tromp right across the grass and flowers. However, Minerva didn't quite see the need to rush back to the Common Room, since there was never really going to be a victory party for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.  
One of her shin guards suddenly slipped loose from her bundle of protection pads, and she bent over to pick it up, noting how stiff she was. There was definitely going to be some serious stretching that evening.

"Nice arse, McGonagall."

She straightened up hastily, her baggy sport jersey covering her backside in the tight leggings once again. With her eyes wide, she turned back to see Tom Riddle strolling through the flower bed, kicking a few of the white lilies as he went. Her eyes narrowed, "How dare you-"  
"Don't be so uptight..." he laughed, swinging his broom over his shoulder as he walked past her, "I paid you a compliment."  
"I don't quite need them from you."  
"I thought you accepted charity from anyone, actually."  
Before she could stop herself, she flung her shin guard forward, jaw dropping when it slammed into the back of Tom's head. He cursed loudly, then spun back to see what had hit him. In the meantime, Minerva stalked along the pathway, stopping when she was directly beside him, "I don't accept charity from the likes of you, Tom Riddle."

She turned away, quite happy with herself, then continued along the path toward the castle, the night air suddenly seeming so much fresher. Tom let out another barking laugh behind her, "Oh, McGonagall?"  
She stopped, closing her eyes with annoyance and then whipping back, glaring at him, "What?!"  
He raised her shin guard, holding it up with a thin finger, "I don't know... Thought you'd be wanting this?"

Colour flamed across her cheeks, and she was thankful it was getting dark enough for him to barely notice her embarrassment. Letting out a growl, she hastily retreated back to his spot, ripping her white shin guard off his finger before shooting him another vile glare. His bloody arrogant face was just irritating, and it stayed in her mind as she walked back on the trail.  
"You know what?" he shouted after some time, causing her to look back, "Next time you bloody well hit me... I'm keeping what you throw!"

His figure was an easy target at the bottom of the slight slope, and Minerva hurled the shin guard back at him. He managed to duck just in time, unfortunately, but it would have hit him in the face if he hadn't. She sneered at him, "Consider it a gift."

Honestly, no one was more irritating then Tom Riddle. Not that Minerva hated him, as he could be civil when they were in class, but sporting events was when he really got to her. An attractive boy of fifteen, he was in his fifth year at Hogwarts, a Slytherin Prefect, and quite advanced for his age. He was already in several of Minerva's classes, usually topping them with her, and knew more about Dark Magic then a lot of the most progressed boys in her year.  
Not that that was a good thing; the Dark arts ought not to be meddled with by some teenage boy. His physical aspects, to a lot of the girls, made up for his rather rude, blunt attitude that he only displayed when none of the teachers were around. Dark, wavy locks atop his head, and a pair of pleasant green eyes, Tom made the perfect poster-boy for Hogwarts. He had a group of friends, mostly Slytherin, that he hung around with, but whenever he was working Minerva noted he would rather study alone than in a group.

All of the teachers, minus her mentor Albus Dumbledore, found him pleasing to have in class. There was nothing wrong with his behavior toward Dumbledore, but apparently they had some history together before Tom joined the school, and that had left an impression on Dumbledore that he would never share with Minerva, no matter how many times she asked.

She had known the boy since he was eleven, and it was from that moment she knew something was different about him. Boys wanted to be like him, girls wanted to date him; there was this strange magnetism that no one could really explain about Tom Riddle. Even some of the Gryffindors wished they could be considered a companion. However, many of the Quidditch members thought very little of him, as he could be quite the cheat during a game.

As she sorted out her equipment in the dormitory, she noted with frustration that she didn't have an extra shin guard, which was what she had thought as she hurled it at Riddle's head nearly ten minutes ago. There were two routes she could take; she could either go ask him to give it back, or ask someone else if they had any. Unfortunately, Hogwarts was not into supplying the sports teams with gear, which meant everyone had to buy their own, and while not everyone on the team were paupers, they weren't brimming with enough money to buy excess Quidditch gear.

With her head hanging in defeat, Minerva hit the showers, knowing that she would have to confront Riddle at one point or another, and she would need to do it with all the dignity she had left.


	2. Duel

Minerva squared her shoulders, spotting her target sitting at a table with a few of his Slytherin friends across the classroom. She knew Tom wouldn't have the shin guard on him now, but when else was she supposed to ask for it back? There were still a few minutes before her professor was to arrive, and at least she would be able to control Riddle if he got annoyed with her, which was possible.

"Just go get a new one from Hogsemeade," Elizabeth suggested, fully healed from her Quidditch injuries, "I can lend you a spare, if you'd like."  
"You're smaller than me," Minerva countered, shaking her head, "It wouldn't fit right... I can't just buy _one_ shin guard either... They only sell them in packs, and they're expensive."  
"All right, all right, go get it then," her friend sighed, rolling her eyes as she dug her books out of her bag. Minerva shot her a look, then stalked off across the classroom, her shoulders back and head high, "Riddle."  
Tom slowly looked up, a frown on his face which slowly turned into a grin, "Well, well... Hello, McGonagall. Come to apologize for your violence last night?"  
Her eyes narrowed, "No. I came to say I want my shin guard back."  
"Well, that's a shame, isn't it," he laughed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms arrogantly, cocking his head to the side, "Because I warned you... I told you whatever you threw at me I'd keep. As I recall... You said it was a gift."  
"What, do you have it tacked up on your wall or something?" Minerva sneered, resisting the urge to snap something else at him, "Just give it back... I need it for practice."  
"Go buy another one then."  
"No..." she snapped, trying not to give away that she didn't have enough money to buy another one, "Why should I waste money when you could just give it back?"  
"Well, mainly because I don't want to give it back," he laughed, his laughs coming out in that familiar bark again, "So... You'll either have to buy a new one, or convince me to give it back."

Minerva wrinkled her nose, and while ignoring his friend's snigger, she turned on her heel and stalked back over to her desk, slumping in beside Elizabeth. Her friend giggled, "I didn't think he'd give it back."  
"Thank you for that," Minerva growled, glaring at her notebook in front of her angrily, "I don't see why he needs to be a prat about it!"  
"Probably because he knows it bothers you," Elizabeth muttered quickly as their graying teacher flew into the room, snarling for everyone to get out their wands and stand up. Today they were going to be practicing duels to disarm their opponents, and disarm them only. Minerva joined her classmates in letting out a groan of disappointment; they weren't first years anymore - they should be allowed to do a little more damage!

"Well, you and me then?" Elizabeth sighed, pulling her blonde hair up into a pony tail. Minerva shrugged, silently hoping the professor would pair them up. She loved Elizabeth with all her heart, but the girl was bloody useless in class.  
"I'll be giving you your partners," the professor bellowed as students began moving off in pairs around the room, "I want to see some mixing with the houses... Riddle, McGonagall, our two Prefects... You two should be setting an example! Go on, you can have the back corner."  
"What?" Minerva blurted before she could stop herself, colouring slightly when everyone turned back to look at her. The professor's eyes narrowed, and she shoved her chair into her desk, then snatched up her wand, storming through a few rows to get to the back corner. Tom was there shortly after her, a silly grin on his face as their professor continued to pair up students, sending Elizabeth off to be with another male student who was equally inadequate with wand work.

"This isn't funny," Minerva hissed as Tom chuckled to himself. He raised an eyebrow, "I think it is..."  
"Well, our sense of humour varies _greatly_, I'm afraid," she fired back, turning around to face him, "Ready?"  
"Whenever you are."  
She steadied her wand, and then took a few steps back to give herself some greater distance. Before she could do anything, Tom shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

She went flying back into a few desks, her wand soaring from her hand and landing a several feet away. A few couples glanced over at her, but thankfully she wasn't the only one that had been thrown across the room by their partner. Grinding her teeth together, she picked herself up, despite the pain emitting from her hip where she had hit a desk corner, and grabbed her wand, crying, "Rictusempra!"

"Protego!" Tom countered, the spell flying off in another direction, "What were you going to do, McGonagall, make me laugh myself to death? That's not the point of this exercise... I believe it was set to disarm _only_."  
"Quite right you are, Riddle," their professor praised, slapping the boy on the back, "Five points from Gryffindor, Ms. McGonagall... Please remember to do what you were assigned."  
"Sorry, Professor," she muttered shamefully as he walked by, shooting Tom a glare, "Thank you for that."  
"Oh, it was my pleasure, really," he snorted, bowing a little, "How about this, McGonagall? If you can disarm me, I'll give you your shin guard back."  
"And if I can't?" Minerva laughed, knowing her shin guard was as good as hers again. He shrugged, "Well... I guess I'll get to tack it up on my wall, won't I?"

She sneered at him, then launched into an attack, flinging disarming spells at him in rapid succession. Unfortunately, each and every one he managed to shoot off or deflect, occasionally sending one back her way that she would only just dodge, and by the end of it, she was sweating, her tie hanging loosely around her neck with a shirt button undone, but she still hadn't won! Tom looked the same as she did, and it was nice to see he was no longer as collected. His reactions were a little slower; probably due to the fact they had been dueling for almost the entire class period.

The professor called for their attention five minutes before class had finished, and told everyone they were assessed on their skills privately, and would receive a grade the next class period. Minerva groaned softly to herself; she still hadn't disarmed him.

"Looks like I get to keep your bloody shin guard," Tom snorted as they met closer together to bow to each other, like proper duelers did once a duel was finished, "Because... Would you look at that? My wand is _still_ in my hand."  
Glaring, Minerva lashed out quickly and snatched it away from him, much to his shock, and tossed it somewhere into the back, "There! You're disarmed! You can give me my _bloody shin guard_ at Prefect rounds tonight."  
"That doesn't bloody well count! You-"  
"Tom Riddle," Minerva snorted dryly, cutting him off, "You never said I had to disarm you with my wand. See you tonight."  
He sneered at her as she stalked off, yet she wasn't quite sure if she had heard right, but she could have sworn she heard him laugh softly.


	3. Hiss, hiss, hiss

Minerva was rather indifferent to Prefect rounds. It was the one time where she could really enforce the law, and people _had_ to listen to her, or else they would receive a detention. However, it was also a period in which her uniform had to be spot on, or she would never hear the end of it from whatever teacher found her. Merlin help her if her shirt was not properly tucked in.

She quickly checked herself over in the mirror, doing up her tie once more to ensure that it was straight, then departed from her dormitory. She waved to her friends, which mainly consisted of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and joined up with the male Prefect Abe Johnson to begin their rounds.

"Who are we patrolling with tonight?" Minerva inquired to break the awkward silence that usually followed the pair whenever they were alone together. He shrugged and pulled out a folded time table from his pocket, his dark eyes skimming the writing quickly, "Uhh... Slytherin, it seems."  
"Hurrah," Minerva groaned, knowing it was just her luck. All the Prefects had to meet up so they could check each other, as this was to ensure no one skipped out on duties, but the schedules were designed to pair up four people for rounds just to make sure houses interact with each other. It was up to the students if they wished to break off into pairs and patrol with a housemate, or be the 'better' student and suffer through a night of dealing with someone else.

It was a difficult choice; she could either patrol with Abe in uncomfortable silence all night, or patrol with Tom, who would no doubt drive her to insanity. Decisions, decisions. She wasn't allowed to patrol with the Slytherin girl, as it was mandatory that there was a male and a female walking the halls, either in a foursome or a twosome.  
They met up with the other six Prefects and everyone signed themselves in. Then, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff pairs went off to sort themselves out, leaving Minerva alone with three people who would no doubt ruin her mood that night.

Tom glanced from Minerva to his partner, and he stalked across to the Gryffindor sixth year, grasping her hand and pulling her down the hall. Apparently he had made his choice about who he wanted to patrol with that evening.

"Tom," Minerva hissed, finally stopping him firmly, "Let go! You're killing my circulation!"  
He looked down at her arm, then released it, "I think if I was forced to spend another minute alone with that _girl_, I would honestly lose my mind."  
A little shocked, Minerva stared at him in silence, pondering why he had suddenly expressed something so personal with her. Shaking her head, she snorted, "Why? You know, I think she fancies you."  
"Well, you truly deserve to be top witch of your year," he droned sarcastically, beginning his walk down the hall leisurely, spinning his wand in his left hand. Minerva cocked an eyebrow, then followed, remembering to keep her distance, yet not make it that obvious, "What's wrong with her? She's pretty-"  
"Looks aren't everything, McGonagall," he snorted, rolling his eyes, "She could be beaten by a third year on any exam she took... I don't understand _why_ she's a Prefect."  
Minerva shrugged, her eyes scanning an adjoining corridor for any out of bed students. A thought hit her suddenly, and she poked his arm, "Where's my shin guard?!"  
"Oh, I don't think I lost today," he snickered, shooting her a look over his shoulder, "I mean... You disarmed me like a Muggle... I don't think that would get you your shin guard back."  
"What?" she scoffed, her eyes narrowing, "But I still disarmed you! You were the one that didn't specify _how_ I needed to do it!"

He was silent for a moment, obviously trying to think of something devilishly clever to sneer back at her. However, the stillness dragged on, and Minerva found herself getting annoyed with his lack of response.  
"Fine," he said at last, taking a sharp turn toward a set of stairs, "We'll go get it then."  
"What?"  
"Really, McGonagall, you sound like some Scottish scullery maid when you speak like that," Riddle cackled as he moved speedily down the staircase, Minerva close behind, "Try and speak like a lady for once."  
"I'm sixteen," she snapped, "I don't think I _need_ to sound like a lady just yet... Where are we going?"  
"To my Common Room," he informed her through the darkness, flicking his wand at a few torches to illuminate the plunging stairs, "We'll get your shin guard, and then go back on duty."  
"I am _not_ going into the Slytherin Common Room," Minerva maintained tightly, her lips barely parting as she hissed at him. She heard him snort once more, "Who said you were coming inside? You can stand outside and bloody well wait for me."  
"This is a waste of time," she snapped when they finally reached the bottom, "We should be patrolling!"

"This won't take long," he argued, leading her down another dark corridor and stopping suddenly, murmuring a word delicately under his breath. A small portrait of a snake slithered away, revealing a rather dreary looking Common Room. Minerva wrinkled her nose, missing her warm, cheery Gryffindor Common Room. Tom slipped inside instantly, and the door slammed closed, leaving Minerva standing alone in the darkness, suddenly feeling rather nervous. Not a lot of the places in Hogwarts scared her, as she was used to patrolling everywhere at night. But normally she had someone with her, and as she stood alone, her mind started playing tricks on her. For a moment she thought she saw someone standing a short distance from her. When she squinted at it, it only turned out to be her shadow, yet it still made her shiver. Then, she started hearing things. A soft whisper from within the walls. It almost sounded like hissing, and Minerva pressed herself against the stone, listening.

Yes, there was definitely something behind the walls. She ran her hand along the stone, concentrating very hard to focus on that sound. Suddenly, it was very close to her, and it seemed as if a large body had just slithered along the other side of the wall. She froze, her heart racing, and a hand suddenly clutched her shoulder, causing her to let out a scream and whip around, her eyes wide and chest heaving.

"What the bloody Hell is wrong with you?" Tom demanded, thrusting her shin guard into her hand, "Ghosties bothering you?"  
"Let's go," she ordered, feeling her head pound as she grasped his shirt sleeve and dragged him back toward the stairs, in no mood to deal with him taking his bloody time. He grunted angrily, then ripped his hand away, "What's gotten into you, McGonagall?"  
"How can you stand having to sleep down there?!" she asked, her tone an octave or two higher than usual, "I... I..."  
"It's not that difficult," Tom snorted, oblivious to her frightened tone, "It's not like it's pitch black inside... We do have working lighting."  
"That's not what I mean," Minerva muttered, "Didn't you hear that?"  
Tom's face paled, and she noted that his confident demeanor changed, "Hear what?"  
"That... That hissing?" she stammered, clutching her shin guard to her chest, "It was horrid! It sounded like it was coming from your Common Room... Are you rearing snakes now?"  
"Sounds ridiculous," Tom snarled, his voice cracking a little, "I think you're going insane... I didn't hear any _hissing_."  
"I'm not going mad," Minerva countered, shooting him a look, "I know what I heard, and I doubt the Headmaster would be pleased to find you lot rearing snakes in your Common Room."  
"No one's rearing anything," Tom sneered, rolling his eyes, "You're just mad. I knew brilliance came with a cost."  
Minerva paused, and then frowned, "You think I'm brilliant?"  
"Don't flatter yourself," Tom laughed, his arrogance finally returning, "Everyone does..."

Minerva felt her cheeks tint a little, and she glanced down at her shin guard. It looked a little cleaner than she last remembered, and she held it up to him, "Did you clean this?"  
"No... Well, a little," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose, "It was filthy when you hurled it at me, so I figured I may as well tidy it up a bit if it was going to be in my room."

Minerva smirked at him, and he glanced at her, then returned it. They shared an odd moment, which was ruined as a fourth year couple walked hand in hand out of the Charms classroom, a grin on their faces. Tom rolled his eyes, "Hey! What do you two think you were doing?!"  
"This will be reported to your professors, Whitman, Harper," Minerva threatened, watching the two scamper off down the hall. Tom folded his arms, then snorted loudly, "I like being a Prefect."  
For some reason, Minerva couldn't help but agree.


	4. Hospital Trips

Minerva stared down at her friend's lifeless figure, frozen in a shocked expression with her hands clamped around a book. Elizabeth had been taken to the Hospital Wing early that morning, and the Gryffindor had only just been informed of her friend's horrible state.  
To some cruel people, Elizabeth was known as a Mudblood. Her parents were Muggles, rather charming ones at that, but Muggles all the same. Minerva had met them at the train station once a few summers ago; nice people.

However, ever since Christmas, strange things had started happening to the other 'Mudbloods' around the school. Three had been attacked, two from Hufflepuff, and another from Ravenclaw. It was only a matter of time before a Gryffindor was taken down. No one could actually explain what was happening, but people were found in random places, petrified. Their bodies were hard as stone, and while they were all still alive, they were as good as dead. It was taking every ounce of knowledge for the staff and nurses to keep the petrified souls from slipping away, and it was getting pathetic that no one truly understood the cause. People had theories, naturally, but most of them were so far fetched that they couldn't even be taken seriously.

She sat on the edge of her friend's bed, staring down at her sadly. There was nothing she, or anyone else, could do. Her mind was constantly running over lists of spells and potions that could have been used to prevent the petrifying; Mandrakes could cure the 'sickness', but the school did not have a fresh batch ready yet, and it would still take some time for the plants to develop into something useful. Until then, all Minerva could do was sit and wait.

"Hey McGonagall, why the long face?"

She glanced up from her current position, spotting Tom Riddle entering the Wing. It had been two weeks since they really chatted with each other, and she had almost forgotten that he could be annoying. She cocked an eyebrow, "What are you doing here, Riddle?"  
"Last time I checked... You don't really need a reason to visit."  
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Elizabeth, her stomach knotting as she looked into her frozen friend's wide eyes. Riddle cleared his throat, "_Fine_. I'm here getting a few supplies for Potions class."

Minerva frowned, slowly looking back up at him as he flitted across the room, removing little tins of paste out of the nurse's cupboards, "Are you allowed to do that?"  
"No one but you will know," he snorted, sliding the tins into his large pockets, "Do you plan on running to your beloved Dumbledore and squealing?"  
"No," she snapped through gritted teeth, "Though you should get points off for leaving class, and a detention for stealing supplies."  
"Well, lucky for me that you don't happen to be a teacher, eh?" Tom snorted, shooting her a smirk as his eyes wandered down to the blonde petrified girl on the bed, "Who's that?"  
"My friend," she replied simply, sighing miserably, "She's been petrified..."  
He sauntered across the empty Hospital Wing, staring down at Elizabeth with a sense of indifference in his eyes, "Shame. When did it happen?"  
"This morning, from what I was told," Minerva murmured, placing a delicate hand on Elizabeth's cold skin, "I wish I knew what happened to her..."

He seemed as though he wished to say more, but held back, nodding sympathetically.

"You know," he said suddenly, his eyes flickering across the hall to a trio of curtained off beds, "The others were Mudbloods that were attacked... Was she...?"  
"That's a filthy name," Minerva snapped, her eyes narrowing, "and I won't dignify _that_ with an answer."  
"No need to be so stingy," Tom snorted, rolling his eyes, "Fine... Was she a Muggle-born?"  
"Yes," she replied tightly, her shoulders straightening just a hint, "What does that have to do with anything?"  
"I don't know... It's just a connection one makes when they think logically," Tom stated, shrugging his shoulders casually, "Do you think whatever is attacking students is simply having a go at Muggle-borns?"  
Minerva shifted awkwardly in place, not wanting to admit that that was exactly what she had been thinking. Instead, she averted her eyes down to Elizabeth, muttering, "Maybe."  
"Maybe?" Tom mocked, rolling his eyes, "Yes, Minerva... Yes, it's attacking Muggle children... Isn't that obvious?"  
"You seem to know an awful lot about attacks and Muggle-borns, Tom," she sneered, using his first name as he had used her's, "Care to tell me something?"  
"I don't need to tell you anything," he mused darkly, "I'm thinking with logic... Everyone else is sitting around here, bloody well 'fretting' about these students, when all they really need to do is use their heads!"  
"Fine then, use your stupid head and tell me how you can fix this!" Minerva demanded harshly, her emotional state getting the better of her, "Come on, out with it!"  
"You claim to be so smart, yet you can't seem to use reasonable thinking for one bloody minute," Tom sneered, his eyes flashing, "Look... Try looking up whatever creature is known for paralyzing people... Maybe you'd find your answer if you actually opened a book and _tried_."

"I think you can go back to class now," she hissed, turning her back to him once more and pointedly focusing on her still friend, "I believe the conversation is pretty much done."  
He stood behind her for a moment or two, completely silent, until she finally heard the sound of his polished school shoes stomping across the tile floor of the Hospital Wing, the doors flying open at the other end, then swinging shut loudly.


	5. Drunken Kindness

Minerva's eyes skillfully watched as her other Chasers hurled across the field after the Ravenclaw players, her comrade Hector finally punting the Quaffle out of their opponents arm fiercely. Minerva took her cue and sped forward, catching it nimbly in the air and racing toward the rings. With all the might she could muster, she flung the large, red ball toward the least guarded ring, releasing a rather thunderous "Whoop!"-ing sound when the ball flew through the metal ring.

With the Seeker missing, Gryffindor had to play extra hard in order to keep themselves on top of the weaker Ravenclaws. They were winning by quite a bit, almost a hundred points, but if the Seeker managed to capture the Snitch, all of their efforts would have been pointless.  
After her victory lap around the pitch, Minerva raced back into action, easily intercepting a pass between two Ravenclaw Chasers, and then tossed the Quaffle to Hector, grinning as Gryffindor's Beaters managed to defend their Chaser all the way to the set of rings for another goal. She couldn't contain a squeal of joy as she and her captain, Ruben, high-fived each other in mid-air, then sped off to score another goal. It was a long, tedious game, but in the end, Gryffindor won. The Ravenclaw Seeker eventually managed to find the Snitch, but by then the Gryffindors were so far ahead that it hardly mattered anymore.

Minerva landed her broom gracefully, and hurried over to her teammates, pouncing on Ruben and nearly dragging him to the ground as the rest of the members congratulated each other enthusiastically. It had been the first Gryffindor victory in ages.

"We won!" Minerva squealed, hugging her captain's neck tightly as she perched up on his back, "We actually won!"  
"Yeah... I know," he gasped, his hands flying up to hers in an attempt to loosen them, "You're strangling me, Minerva-"  
"Sorry," she laughed, sliding off him and then moving on to congratulate some of her other team mates heartily.

"Hello Elizabeth," Minerva greeted as she walked quickly toward her friend's bed once she arrived at the hospital wing sometime later, smiling weakly, "How are you today?"  
The girl still lay motionless on the bed, her eyes wide and boring into the high ceiling as Minerva replaced the wilting flowers at her bedside with newer, fresher ones. Elizabeth had been petrified for almost three weeks, and the cure still wasn't ready to make her well again. While it could be a hassle, at times, Minerva still went up to the Hospital Wing to see her, and bring her some new flowers whenever they were needed.

"Gryffindor won today," she stated, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on her friend's cold one, "We still needed you... Their Seeker is _so_ good... But I'm sure you'll be around for the final games."  
She let out a sigh, then forced another smile, this time a little more glowing, "There's a party tonight down at one of the pubs... I wish you could come with me, but I'm sure I'll find someone to sit with. It's a celebration for our first win in _ages_... Everyone played brilliantly yesterday though! Merlin, you should have seen how many shots Ruben blocked! He's been training really hard since you.... well, since you ended up like this... We all have! I miss you... So wake up soon, all right?"

She waited for a moment, as though listening to a response, then grinned, "Good. I'll be back tomorrow, all right."

Leaning down, she placed a quick kiss on her friend's forehead, then departed, off to make herself a little more presentable for the party that evening.  
The Gryffindor house had never really been one for parties in the castle. It meant there was a risk of being told off by a professor, and the young years were always persistent on joining in. Atleast with the party down in Hogsemeade, they could properly enjoy themselves without being hassled by anyone.

Minerva herself had never been one for parties. They were loud, drunken, and generally ended in someone hurting themselves. However, on those rare occasions that her team was victorious after a game, she didn't see the harm in joining together with her housemates for a bit of fun. It wasn't as though she planned on staying long anyway; she had so much homework to work on for the following day, and the only way to get half of it done was to work on it the next morning, which meant getting up exceedingly early.

There weren't too many other girls in her house that she wished to spend great amounts of time with. Elizabeth was the only person she wanted to be with her, at that point in time, and she felt a little down that she wasn't there.  
She had dressed up a little, but only slightly. Her hair was hanging down in lengthy waves, despite the current trend to have a short bob for a hairstyle. That just didn't suit her narrow face, and she preferred having her hair long anyway.  
Her clothes were a little slinkier than usual, but only because a girl in her dorm offered to lend her a dress for the party. Apparently one had to look as though they were ready to get into any boy's pants on a whim when going to a party.

She tugged the bottom of her dress down a little lower, then accepted the small drink she had asked the bartender to fetch for her. The party had been going on for almost three hours now. While everyone seemed as though they were having a good time, Minerva included, it was really starting to get late.

"Eh, love," one of the beaters, George, grinned as she walked past, his hand drunkenly reaching out to grope her arse, "C-C'mere... There's a spot to sit here..."  
"Don't touch me," Minerva snapped stiffly, managing to just step out of his grasp. He frowned, then stood up, lumbering after her as she walked back over to her table. A hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist, and she let out a startled gasp, turning back to see her drunk teammate leering at her, "What're you so high and mighty 'bout?! Think you're better than me?!"  
"No, no, I don't-"  
"Just because I'm not pure like you-"  
"I never said that!"  
"Eh, George, mate," Ruben said firmly, stepping in to try and break the pair apart, "You're drunk... Let her go before you do something stupid."  
"You should have seen the way she was looking a-at me!" he growled, his fingers tightening around her wrist, "Like I'm scum..."  
"You're drunk!" she shrieked, trying to shake loose, "What do you expect?!"  
"Minerva, be quiet," Ruben hissed, shooting her a warning look, "She didn't mean anything by whatever look she gave you... Just calm down, all right?"  
"Yes, and let go of me!"  
"Minerva, shut-"  
"No! I should be allowed to tell him to let go!"

By now, more people were paying attention, and Hector had stepped up to lend a hand. He grasped George's shoulder, "C'mon, Mate... Let me get you some water-"  
"I don't want water!" he snarled, shaking Minerva's hand, "I want her t-to apologize!"  
"There's nothing for me to apologize for!" Minerva argued, handing her drink to Ruben and pushing against the firm hand holding her there, "You tried to grope me, I walked away... I shouldn't have to apologize for _anything_!"  
"Wait, he's been trying to grab you?" Hector asked, and as soon as Minerva nodded her head, her friend finally stepped in and managed to pry George's hand off of her wrist. She recoiled, holding her sore wrist to her chest, and watched as a few other boys wrestled a shouting George to the ground. Apparently Minerva's 'look' hadn't been the only thing that was bothering him, and now _must_ have been the opportune moment to vent everything out. His grades were down, his girlfriend left him (at that moment a girl seated at the other end of the pub turned her head away bashfully), and now everything was falling to pieces. Plus 'Mudbloods' were being hunted by something at Hogwarts, and he was sure people like _Minerva_ were rooting for him to be next on the list.

Disgusted, Minerva headed straight for the door, snatching up her cloak along the way. She could faintly hear Ruben calling after her, but she ignored him, making her way back to the castle along the dimly lit path. Honestly, the stupidity and ignorance of some boys was just ridiculous. As if she would ever send some horrid monster on _anyone_, no matter what their blood background was! Some people really needed to grow up...

"Excellent game today, McGonagall."

She let out a shrill scream and turned on her heel, wand in hand as she stared down a grinning Tom Riddle in the dark. Her body was tingling with adrenaline, and she hastily tucked away her weapon, "Bloody Hell, Riddle! What are you doing in the woods?!"  
"Dumbledore sent me out to fetch him some plants," he explained, holding up a small sac, "He never really specified the time though... I find the forest more interesting in the dark, don't you agree?"  
The small wisps of light flickering from the wall of torches along the pathway danced along his pale face as he stepped out, smirking, "What're you doing out here... alone?"  
"I left a party-"  
"Ah yes, the little Gryffindor celebration," Tom mused, snorting loudly, "How did it go?"  
"Reasonably well, until the end," she admitted, restarting her brisk walk down the trail, Riddle at her side, "I don't understand boys."  
"Really?" he laughed, causing her to flush when she realized what she had just said; "Now I'm interested..."  
"Well, it's nothing fascinating, I can promise you," she explained awkwardly, ignoring the way his eyes pressed into her, "This boy on my team tried to... you know... Well, he was drunk, and he tried to grab me when I walked past him, and then he got all huffy and started yelling at me for thinking he was some piece of scum, or something... After the other blokes wrestled him to the ground, I simply grabbed my cloak and left. Everyone seems too immature to handle their alcohol, since something like that always happens."

Tom listened intently as she told her short tale, his hands clasped behind his back, the sac of plants bouncing against the backs of his legs every so often. With his head bowed, she could only just see the ghostly grin on his lips, "Well... Gryffindors have that reputation, I'm afraid. Slytherins, on the other hand, always know how to handle their liquor."  
Minerva snorted loudly, "Oh, please... You're all teenagers! You're younger than me... You shouldn't even be drinking!"  
"And you should?"  
"Well... No," she mused, "But I don't drink excessively."  
"So that makes it all right?"  
She rolled her eyes, then released a sigh, "I'm not going to bicker with you about it... Go back in the woods and find your ruddy plants if you're going to bother me."  
"All right, all right," he chuckled, holding his head up a little higher, "I'll be serious. What was his name?"  
It was at that moment that Minerva noticed Tom was actually taller than her. Not by much, but there was definitely some height difference. She cleared her throat, "George... He's a Beater on my team... He's normally not like that, but he was so scary."  
"George?" Tom repeated, frowning suddenly, "I think I've met him... Made a big rant about 'Pureblood snots' to me, and how they all looked down on him... I thought he was on something, and it furthered my belief that the Gryffindors smoke something on their free time."  
"Oh, don't base all of us on him," Minerva grumbled, "But a few people, mainly from _your_ house have put him down in the past for not being a Pureblood."  
Tom looked as though he wanted to laugh, but he held it in, "Shame."  
Minerva shot him a sideways glance, "You don't care at all, do you?"  
"No, not really."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, and they continued walking along the usual pathway in silence. Her eyes drifted to the woods, suddenly realizing she didn't feel afraid to be out in the dark with Tom. Normally, had she been alone, she would have been terrified out of her wits. The forests always whispered to her, and she preferred to get through them as quickly as she could. Tom made her feel so much more secure.  
"You know what?" he asked randomly, his hands now in his pockets with the sac of plants swinging between them, "I like being around you."  
Minerva glanced up at him, then shot him a smile, "You know what? ... Me, too."


	6. Petrified

It had been some time since Minerva and Tom had properly seen each other, as school work was piling up with the end of another quarter fast approaching. Teachers were looking for any excuse to push work on them, and while Minerva was generally on top of it, everything was getting so tiring. Elizabeth was still paralyzed and though she tried to visit her as often as she could, the trips to the Hospital Wing were becoming less and less as time passed.

George apologized profoundly the next day after the Gryffindor party, and pleaded with her to understand he was a different person when he was drunk, and didn't mean anything he had said. According to Hector, it had been Tom that persuaded the Gryffindor Beater to confront Minerva, though no one but the dark haired girl could understand why.

She wasn't sure if Tom fancied her, or if he was actually just making a real effort to be her friend. Unfortunately, she didn't quite know enough about him to understand his ulterior motives, and had to settle with her gut instinct on things.

"Come on, McGonagall, let's go," Tom said briskly as the Prefects divided up into pairs. The Ravenclaw Prefect, Melanie, cleared her throat, "Excuse me, but it's supposed to be Slytherin and Ravenclaw tonight, not Slytherin and Gryffindor."  
Tom turned back to her, his eyes narrowing, "What?"  
"You know, the pairings..." she trailed off, her infatuation for Tom Riddle more apparent to Minerva than ever, "Shouldn't you and I-"  
"We can patrol with whoever we damn well please," Tom snapped, "Move it, McGonagall."  
He grasped her arm and pulled her down the dimly lit hallway, the other's watching with awed expressions on their faces. Once they had turned a corner and were plainly out of sight, she pulled her arm away gently, "Tom, you don't need to be so rude to people."  
"I'm not being rude," he argued back, rolling his eyes, "She was being annoying, so I put her in her place... Nothing's wrong with that."  
"Well, you could have been nicer when you said it," she fired back coldly, tucking her hands into the pockets of her cloak, "She was just saying-"  
"You and I both know she's pompous and irritating," he remarked casually, stopping to check in a classroom which had accidentally been left unlocked. After shutting the door, he continued, "I just shut her up before she gave anyone a headache."  
"You're horrid, Tom," she laughed, finally just deciding to let it go, "Completely and utterly horrid."  
"Thank you," he mused, shooting her a grin, "You truly know how to flatter me, Minerva."

She liked the way he said her name. It was an ancient name, one of old origins that no one seemed to care about anymore. But the way he said it, the way his accent curled around certain letters only made her smile. She shook her head, "Most people don't see that as a compliment."  
"Ah, but I'm not most people."  
"Apparently," she sighed, flicking her wand down a darkened corridor, lighting it up briefly. Thankfully there were no students in their sector of the castle, as she was in no mood to file any sort of detention report that evening.

"So did that Beater apologize to you?" he asked out of the blue once they started up a set of stairs, their pace in time. Minerva frowned, "Yes, yes he did... Everyone said you had something to do with that... Why?"  
"No reason," he chuckled, turning on his heel sharply to lead her in the other direction, "I figured it would be the right thing to do."  
"Since when have you cared about what's right and what's not?" Minerva asked, noting they were on the second floor. He paused, grabbing her arm to keep her from walking any further, "I don't know, actually."  
She wasn't quite sure what to say, and her lips parted for a moment, but she hastily closed them and looked away, "Tom-"  
The shrill giggle of girls interrupted them, and Tom sneered as a trio of second year girls tromped out from a hallway, then instantly froze upon spotting the two Prefects.

"Olive, you're not allowed to be out this late," Minerva snapped, authority in her tone, "I'll have to inform Dumbledore, and you'll receive an adequate amount of days in detention... All three of you."  
"Ruddy Gryffindors," Tom muttered, earning him a glare from Minerva, "Well, go on! Is there a need to just stand here and stare?!"  
"What about Myrtle?" Olive Hornby demanded, pouting her lips as she folded her arms, "She's been hiding in the toilets all day! She's still in there!"  
"Then I'll go deal with her," Minerva growled, "Off to bed, all of you!"

The three girls scuttled off quickly, giggling to one another as they went. They were such cruel little girls; the utter divas of their year, if the rumours were true. While she shouldn't enjoy it, she loved getting them into trouble.  
"Who is Myrtle?" Tom inquired lightly as they made their way toward the girls' bathroom. Minerva let out a sigh, "She's a second year in my house... Clever little thing, but unfortunately she hasn't quite passed out of her ... unattractive stage that all girls go through."  
"So she's intelligent, but ugly?" Tom snorted, "Poor thing... Won't get her very far-"  
"Tom!"  
"What?!" he snapped, "I'm only stating a fact, Minerva."  
"Well..." she trailed off, trying to find the words to chastise him, "Don't say anything!"  
"Fine."  
She pushed the door open to the bathroom, then noticed Tom wasn't following her. He stood a good foot or so away, his arms folded neatly across his chest, "What?"  
"Aren't you coming?"  
"It's the _girls'_ toilet, Minerva," he stated, rolling his eyes, "Besides, she's in _your_ house."  
"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted, stepping back to him and grabbing his hand without even thinking, "We're both Prefects, and we're both on duty."

She dragged him into the bathroom, and then quickly released his hand, glad the darkness of the place hid her abrupt blush. Clearing her throat, she called, "Myrtle? Where are-"  
Minerva let out a loud gasp as she spotted the girl's body spread out on the tiled floor, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Taking a step back, she accidentally brushed into Tom, but he kept her there, his wand in hand as his eyes skimmed the room, "Do you hear anything?"  
Yes, yes she did. A distinct hissing throbbed from the stone walls. It almost sounded as though someone was laughing, but it was difficult to say. She swallowed thickly, "It's that hissing again, Tom..."  
"Nonsense," he murmured, his mouth close to her, "I don't hear anything. Perhaps someone played a prank on her."  
"Look at her," Minerva whispered, hurrying forward and kneeling beside Myrtle, the girl's typical pigtails splayed out on the floor, "Tom, this isn't right. She's not stunned... She must be petrified."

Her body shook at the thought of whatever was doing this being near. What if it was still in the bathroom?! As delicately as she could, she placed her hands on Myrtle's neck, feeling for a pulse. However, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't locate one.  
"Tom, I don't think she has a pulse!" Minerva exclaimed as he walked up behind her, his wand hanging loosely from his right hand, "She... She's not breathing... Tom, I don't think she's alive!"  
"You're overreacting," he snapped, kneeling down and placing two fingers precisely over her pulse, then frowned, "Maybe it's just faint."  
"Tom, it's not-"  
"Run and fetch someone," he ordered softly, his eyes barely flickering away from the young girl's body, "Dumbledore's office is closest."  
"Right," she uttered breathlessly, rising to her feet as quickly as she could, then rushing out to find a professor. Had she stopped to look back, she would have noticed Tom rise to his feet, shoot the girl a disgusted glare, then stalk out of the lavatories swiftly in silence.


	7. Liar

"Tom!" Minerva hissed, spotting him alone at a table in the library. He glanced up, alarmed as he hastily closed the massive book he had been reading from, then relaxed when he spotted her, "Oh, well... Good evening, Minerva."  
"Don't be pleasant with me, Tom, I'm not in the mood," she snapped, hurrying over to the table, her cloak a flurry around her body, "You have a lot of explaining to do!"

He cocked an eyebrow, and though his smile was the epitome of confusion, Minerva knew he understood completely what she was talking about.  
After finding Myrtle's dead body in the bathroom, Minerva ran as quickly as she could to find Professor Dumbledore and inform him of the situation. He was chatting contently with one of the new young teachers, Flitwick, though instantly grew concerned as to Minerva's state when she arrived. After quickly explaining what had happened, Flitwick went off to find the headmaster, and Dumbledore accompanied her back to the scene of the crime. However, once she arrived, she instantly noticed Tom was nowhere to be seen in the gloomy bathroom, nor would any of the surrounding paintings admit to seeing him.  
She tried to explain to the numerous amounts of teachers that showed up afterward that Tom Riddle _really_ had been there, but Dippet proclaimed she was suffering mentally after seeing a death, and assigned her to speak with the school shrink for several weeks until she had her 'delusions' under control.

Completely ridiculous.

"Minerva, please lower your voice," Tom crooned, shaking his head, "We're in a library, and people are trying to study."  
"Stop it, Tom," she ordered sharply, "If you're going to play games, I'm going to stand here and bother you until you finally agree to listen like a reasonable adult."  
He ground his teeth together noticeably, then stood up and grasped her arm, "Come on, then."  
He hauled her off to a more secluded section of the library, closest to the windows, then turned to face her, "What?!"  
"You left last night," she snarled, her eyes narrowing, "You left me all alone to explain dozens of times to multiple different teachers _why_ and _how_ there was a dead body on the floor of the girls' toilets-"  
"That's a little stupid, isn't it?"  
She paused, still flustered, "What?"  
"Well," he began, a ghost of a grin on his lips, "Why would they ask you how and why the damn girl died... What makes them think you would know?"  
Her eyebrows knitted together, and she hastily brushed away the question, "I don't know... It's customary to ask whoever found the body stupid questions."  
"Is it?"  
"Stop getting me off topic, Tom!" she groaned, ignoring how close they were standing, and the way he tilted his head down to hers, "Why did you leave?!"  
"Do you think I really wanted to sit around with a dead body?" he asked softly, raising an eyebrow again, "Besides... I wasn't in the mood to have a chat with Dumbledore... He hates me enough as it is."  
"Don't be stupid," she droned, shaking her head at him, "Why would he hate you? He talks highly of your abilities in class-"  
"Just because I'm a good wizard doesn't mean he likes me," he argued, inching forward slightly, "What did they want to know?"

"When I found her, what sort of condition she was in, if anything had changed," she rambled, trying to remember everything they had demanded she share with them, "I... I don't really remember."  
"It doesn't matter," he sighed, "Atleast it's over with."  
Her stomach knotted, and she felt her annoyance building up all over again, "No! No, it's not over! Tom... Tom, I heard Dippet saying they may have to close Hogwarts!"  
"What?!"  
"He said it to Dumbledore after I was supposed to leave," she explained, "I waited outside the door... I wanted to know what he was going to say... and he said the attacks were getting to be too many, and too serious... And now someone's dead. Hogwarts isn't safe anymore, Tom, and I think they're going to close it."  
Tom's face hardened, and he took a step back, his eyes almost livid, "They can't close down Hogwarts!"  
"Shh!" she hissed, suddenly noticing there were a few more students in their area, "Keep it to yourself... I don't know if it'll happen-"  
"How could it not happen?" he demanded, shaking his head, "How could I..." he paused, "Dippet's too weak to handle something this big... He'll close it to make himself look better."  
"Calm down," she ordered quickly, placing a hand on his arm, "Look... We can't be sure anything will happen. Come talk to Dumbledore with me, and maybe you can help him understand what we saw better."  
"I'm not speaking to Dumbledore," he declined firmly, "I wouldn't say anything to that-"  
"Fine, let's go to Dippet then!"  
"No, Minerva," he growled sharply, causing her to flinch, "I'm not going anywhere!"  
"Why not?!"  
"I left a dead body on its own when you went to get people," he stated, "That looks bad to some people."  
"You were with me, Tom," she grumbled, growing more and more irritated that he wouldn't see things her way, "I can tell them you were with me... No one is going to think you did it, Tom."  
"I know no one would suspect me," he laughed coldly, a grin suddenly on his lips, "But Dumbledore and Dippet must be ready to take any suspect they can get... I'm sure as soon as someone hinted it was me because I ran away... I'd be hauled off for murder."  
"That's stupid," she snorted, rolling her eyes, "Then I would end up being arrested too... You should really think before you speak, Tom."  
"I know what I'm talking about, Minerva," he replied coyly, shooting her a smirk, "People don't seem to think that... But I know quite a lot."

"Nonsense," she snapped, brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand, "You're fifteen... Don't act as though you know the ways of the world."  
"You're sixteen," he chuckled, "You think you know everything? Come now... I even look older than you."  
"You do not!"  
"I'm taller."  
"So?"  
"So-"  
"You're getting me off topic again!" she cried crossly, folding her arms across her chest, "Tom, we need to talk to someone."  
"No."  
"No one believed me that you were there," she pressed, hoping to sway his mind, "The portraits lied, and now Dippet's making me talk to someone because he thinks the death has... traumatically altered my set of mind."  
"Maybe it has," he cooed sarcastically, reaching out and pushing some hair away from her face, "You've always had such a complex mind, Minerva... Maybe the sight of her dead body pushed you over the top."  
"Don't say that," she hissed, slapping his hand away, "Nothing is wrong with me... But I know something is _definitely_ wrong with you."

She stalked past him, her hands tightly clenched, and she rolled her eyes when she heard him following her. He was close though he wouldn't reach out to stop her like he wanted, as both of them knew people could now see them as they hurried through the more prominent aisles of the library.  
"So what's wrong with me?!" he demanded quietly behind her as they walked, "Come on, Minerva... If you make the accusation, you need to have something else to add to it."  
"We're finished talking, Tom," she snapped, glaring over her shoulder as she left the library, "Now go away."  
"No, we're not finished!"  
Before she could turn back to snarl something at him, she collided with a rather large body, and was forced to stagger back into Tom.  
"Hagrid," she gasped, rubbing her nose slightly where she had ran into the overly large Third Year, "Sorry..."  
"No, 's my fault," he stated swiftly, rubbing the back of his neck before shooting Tom an apprehensive look, "Bye."  
"Bye then..." she called, watching as the boy hurried off down the hall, his head down and hands rubbing together nervously. Yet another person from her house whom she was rather fond of, she was curious as to why the boy hadn't stuck around to chat with her, as he was usually quite happy to chat about anything that came to mind. While that mainly consisted of the animals he was studying at school, Minerva appreciated it all the same.  
She looked back to say something to Tom, but she noticed he was studying Hagrid with a deep interest, and she kept quiet until he finally glanced down at her. He cleared his throat, "When are they removing the body?"  
"Tonight."  
"Fine..." he muttered, "I'll speak with Dumbledore."  
"Thank you," she sighed, finally giving a smile, "That means a lot to me."  
There was an odd twinkle in his eye as he grinned down at her, "Good. I'm glad it does."


	8. Wrongfully Accused

"I knew it all along."  
"He seemed rather sketchy to me..."  
"Obviously... He's half-giant! I don't understand why he was even _allowed_ at Hogwarts."  
"Well, Dippet must have gotten a bit of extra money from him."  
"So he was hiding a creature _in_ the school?"  
"Aye-"  
"Yes, and did you see what it did?!"  
"It killed!"

Minerva sat in amongst her large group of friends in the library, most from different houses, and was in complete shock. Hagrid had been arrested after someone turned him in. He pleaded guilty for holding a dangerous magical animal within the castle, and had his wand broken. To top everything off, he was going to be taken to Azkaban in a few nights after being held in the Ministry. It was too much to digest, really. Hagrid had always been a sweet boy, albeit a little clumsy and awkward, but sweet all the same.

"I don't think he did it," Minerva murmured to Hector, shaking her head, "It seems too... rushed, you know? How could someone have caught him that quickly after Myrtle was... killed?"  
"Don't over think it, Minerva," Hector snorted, barely glancing up from his Herbology homework, "It'll give you a headache... All we know was that the killer was caught, and Hogwarts is safe again."  
"But it's too easy-"  
"Well, who else did it then?"  
All eyes turned to Minerva, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, "Look, I don't know who else could have done it... But, come now... We've known Hagrid for three long years... Does anyone here think he has the mentality to kill?"  
"Yeah, but it wasn't him, remember," George remarked, pointing the feathery end of his quill at her, "It was his stupid beast that he kept locked up in a room."

Gossip spread like wildfire at Hogwarts, and it was no shock that nearly everyone knew how, when, and where Hagrid had kept this animal locked up in the castle. No one, however, knew what sort of creature it was. She made a face at the group of bickering students, who were all trying to figure out what sort of punishment Hagrid would get, and then gathered up her belongings. Something just didn't seem right about this.  
She moved soundlessly through the halls, her feet taking her along the familiar path to Albus Dumbledore's office. There was no need to knock anymore, as they were close enough as a student and teacher for her to simply walk in.

"Professor?" she called, frowning when she noted things had been packed away neatly. Shutting the door softly behind her, and dumped her bag on the floor, careful not to spill the contents, and went in further, "Professor, are you there?"  
"Hello, Poppet," he said loudly, exiting from his personal quarters with a bag in hand, "What can I do for you?"  
Taking in the bags, she folded her arms, "Are you leaving?"  
"Only for a little while, I'm afraid," he sighed, setting the small bag down on his desk, then leaning against it with his hands folded neatly in front, the paleness of his skin standing out against the blue traveling cloak, "I'm going to sit with Hagrid while he awaits trial... Hopefully I'll be able to get a few words in here and there."

Her heart instantly melted for the older man, and she smiled, "That's very sweet of you, Professor."  
"Well, I simply can't let him sit there all by himself," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling warmly, "Though he's a large boy, Hagrid can get rather insecure from time to time."  
"Yes, he can, can't he?" she mused, shaking her head, then tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "How long will you be gone for?"  
"Until I run out of clothes, I suppose," he laughed, picking up a small box on his desk, "Chocolate?"  
"Yes, thank you."  
"You look somewhat perplexed tonight, Minerva," he stated as she went forth to search for the type of chocolate she would like, "Something wrong?"  
"It's this whole thing," she admitted, finally grabbing a brightly wrapped chocolate and unwrapping it, "I don't think it was Hagrid."  
"Nor do I," Dumbledore agreed, his shoulders slumping slightly, "However, you and I are two of the rare few who think that. Until the _real_ killer steps forth... I'm afraid poor Hagrid will take the fall."  
"It's horrid," she grumbled, leaning against his desk beside him, "Complete nonsense... Anyone who knew Hagrid for five minutes would know he couldn't hurt anyone."  
"Yes, but people also know of his fondness for wild beasts," Dumbledore argued gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I know it's difficult, but don't let it affect you too much... I promised Hagrid he wouldn't go to prison, and I intend to see that promise through."  
Minerva nodded, and she hastily left her chocolate before asking, "If I may ask... Who turned Hagrid in?"  
Dumbledore's eyes suddenly clouded over, and for a long while he stayed silent. Finally, he cleared his throat and replied, "Tom Riddle."  
Her jaw fell as she inhaled sharply, "Tom? But... Tom thinks... No."  
"No?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows, "Why does that sound so strange to you?"  
"It's just... I don't know," she groaned, defeated, "I don't understand why Tom would go after Hagrid... He didn't even know who he was until the other..."

She trailed off, remembering it was _she_ who had made them meet for the first time a few days ago. Dumbledore studied her carefully, "Is there something going on, Minerva? Something you wish to tell me?"  
She bit her lip, and then quickly shook her head, "No... But I have to go... Load of homework tonight."  
Dumbledore released a sigh, "All right, off you trot. But please, Minerva, for my sake... Don't put your trust into Tom Riddle."  
"Why, sir?"  
"Just... don't."

She nodded her head, then departed from his office, walking aimlessly down the busy corridors in silence. Why shouldn't she trust Tom? Hadn't he said he would go speak to Dumbledore for her? He enjoyed making her happy... That's what he had hinted, hadn't he?

"Afternoon, Minerva."  
She let out a startled gasp, which was quickly muffled as her hand flew to her mouth in shock as Tom popped out from a window ledge she had just passed, "Tom! You frightened me... I was just thinking about you."  
"In good terms, I hope," he mused, grinning down at her as he placed a hand on the small of her back, "I found out the mandrakes should be ready soon... Your little friend in the Hospital Wing will be revived sometime in the next two weeks."  
"That's wonderful," she beamed, suddenly liking the way he was smiling at her, "When did you find that out?"  
"This morning," he replied as they started walking, "I made sure I checked... Now that the beast is out of the school, we should be on the right track to healing, don't you think?"

"Er... Yes," she answered, stopping when they were finally out of earshot. "Tom, did you turn in Hagrid?"  
"That oaf?" he snorted, rolling his eyes, "Yes... He seemed quite odd when we saw him the other day, so I followed him for two evenings, and it turned out he was hiding some ... creature in one of the rooms. I knew it was him from that point on... You don't need to worry, Minerva... He's gone now."  
"I wasn't worried, Tom," she remarked, stepping away from his hand, "I just... I don't think it was Hagrid."  
"Oh?" he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest, "Who else did it, Minerva?"  
She groaned loudly, then turned away from him, staring out across the open grounds, "How am I supposed to know?! I just... I can't see it being Hagrid."

The wind blew softly across the stone walkway, and though they were roofed in, Minerva could feel the sunlight trickling onto her back from an open window behind her.  
"I understand that you cared for him," he mused, standing beside her and gazing out at the beautiful sunny day, "He was in your house... under your charge, but he held something dangerous in the school, and he needed to be... taken out of the way."  
"Out of the way?" she snapped, glaring up at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Nothing," he muttered, still staring out at the scenery, "Nothing... Minerva, there's been something I've wanted to ask you for some time now."  
"Oh?" she snorted moodily, leaning down on the cement window ledge, "What's that?"  
"Do you fancy me?"


	9. Boyfriend

"What?" Minerva laughed awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. Tom cocked an eyebrow, then grinned, "You. Fancy. Me. Do you?"  
She forced out another laugh, and suddenly became irritated when his grin grew. Releasing a sigh, she glared into the distance, "Well, you don't have to be so smug about it..."

The wind continued to blow through the massive stone window, and she inhaled deeply. It was one of those days, despite how badly things had appeared, would brighten just with the way the wind smelled. Fresh, clean... everything about it was rejuvenating.  
He leaned down suddenly and planted a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek, causing her to flinch away at the shocking contact. Minerva placed a hand on her cheek, and Tom smirked down at her, "Just so you know... I fancy you a bit, too."  
"Oh..." she breathed, her eyes pointedly glued at a tree just ahead of the bridge, trying to avoid looking up at him, "Well... Well... That seems... to work out, doesn't it?"  
He chuckled softly, and leaned down on the cement frame of the large window, the small waves of his hair fluttering in the breeze, "So, you not going to look at me anymore?"  
She shot him a sharp glance, then straightened her shoulders, "What?"  
"There we go," he mused, turning to face her, "That's the authoritive little face I've grown to like... Tell me, Minerva, why aren't we a couple?"  
"Tom!" she gasped, a sudden grin gracing her lips, "Tell me, Mr. Riddle... Why are you so forward?"  
"I'm just that type of man-"  
Minerva snorted loudly, and covered her mouth with her hand daintily as he scowled at her, "What's funny?"  
"You referred to yourself as a man," she giggled, rolling her eyes, "You're fifteen, Tom."  
"And you're sixteen, Minerva," he replied promptly, leaning in a little and cocking an eyebrow, "What's your point?"  
"Nothing, it's just..." she took a deep breath, suddenly noticed he was leaning a little too close to be comfortable, "It's just... I don't call myself a woman, mainly because I'm _not_."  
"I can change that."  
"Tom!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing, "What's the matter with you today?!"  
"Nothing, really," he mused, taking in a deep breath, "I'm just being... me."  
"I'd hardly call this you," Minerva replied, shaking her head and gazing up at him, enjoying the deep, warmness that radiated from his eyes. They were so different from the rest of his personality; they were nice.

"What are we going to do about this, Minerva?" he inquired softly all of a sudden, reaching out and delicately touching her arm, "There's something unresolved now."  
"Nonsense," she snorted, pulling her hand away, "There's-"  
"We both seem to like each other just a little more than friends," he stated bluntly, sneering at a pair of Third Year Hufflepuff girls as they glided past on their way down to the lake, shooting both Prefects curious looks before pointedly staring away from Tom, "and I personally think we should do something about it."  
"Oh?" Minerva mused, smiling as she watched a smirk form on his lips, "What exactly did you have in mind?"  
"Publicly dating would be out of the question," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, turning away from her and staring out at the scenery, his hands clutched together behind his back, "We're opposites on everything... Years, houses... Quidditch teams."  
"Aye," she mused, pondering what he was getting at now, "So, what-"  
"But if we dated in private," he started, his tone elegant and graceful as his voice eagerly curved around the words, "Well... I think it would make everyone a little happier, don't you?"  
"Perhaps," she replied coyly, mimicking his stance, her sharp eyes picking out a group of Ravenclaws settling down on the grass below with their books, "How would it work?"  
"We see each other every night," he commented, "Every couple of lessons... Weekends... It wouldn't be that difficult."  
"Is it really necessary to keep it a secret?" she asked, cocking her head toward him and waiting for a reply. His eyes seemed to stare dead ahead, barely flickering as the breeze hit them, and for a moment, she thought he had left this world. However, he returned quickly, and grinned down at her, "I think it would be more fun..."  
"Fun?"  
"Well, I suppose we could call it fun, for now," he chuckled, leaning down suddenly and giving her another peck on the cheek, "We'll think of other names for it later..."

"Tom," she sighed, her cheeks tinting quite clearly on the sunny afternoon, "You're horrid."  
"I think that's what you like about me," the Slytherin laughed, his tone free for the first time during the whole conversation, it seemed, "We'll finish this at Prefect rounds... I've got something to do."  
"All right, but Tom-"

He grasped her hand tightly, and then gave it an even firmer squeeze before departing back along the stone bridge, his school cloak swaying hypnotically behind him. Minerva leaned back against the wall of the bridge, then slapped a hand harshly against her forehead. She had a boyfriend! A secret one, but still a boyfriend! Her parents would murder her, and immediately assume she was shagging his brains out - something she did not intend to do; marriage was a time for that!  
What if it affected her school work? No, she wouldn't allow that; it was all too important in her final few years at Hogwarts, and no mere boy was going to mess that up for her.  
And then there was Tom.  
Tom Riddle had a few girls out for him, and while Minerva should be standing there, grinning smugly like some love struck idiot, she wasn't. Instead, she stood alone on the lengthy bridge that nearly divided up the Hogwarts grounds, and all she could do was worry.


	10. Smile, Sweetheart

It had been extremely difficult dating Tom Riddle. Minerva had heard all the girls gush about what a charming, wonderful boyfriend he would make, and each time she listened to a compliment she wanted to laugh.  
He was sweet, at times, and he could be caring... at times. It was difficult to actually see each other during the busy last few months of school. Minerva had spent a lot of time with Dumbledore, sometimes assisting with the younger classes when she had a free period. It had hit her one evening that she wanted to teach everything she knew to students one day, and the only way to do that _and_ give back to Hogwarts was to become a professor.

Dumbledore suggested Transfigurations, as she excelled in that above everything else, and also inquired if she would be interested in taking some summer courses with him this year, and then finish half a year earlier in that field. He said he planned on changing job positions, and she would make the perfect replacement, once she got everything down pat. It was such an honour to even be considered by Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva instantly accepted.

Besides the stress of living up to his new standards, Minerva also found herself worrying over the exams. She barely had time to study _and_ see Tom, and after one moody evening of her complaining, Tom simply suggested she take all the time she needs to fully fill her mind with knowledge. It stung a little, but she moved past it quickly and buckled down.

The final Quidditch scores left Minerva miserable; Gryffindor turned out third overall, and Slytherin managed to keep their undefeated victorious title. Tom was rather smug about it, but she found he was more enjoyable to be around when he was smug, since it meant he was happy.

The weekend before exams, when she was too frazzled to study anymore, she and Tom spent the night together. Not 'sleeping' together, but he showed her a quiet, out of the way room where she could get some good, well needed rest. It was the first time he actually showed a great deal of affection toward her, which made her want to be with him more and more. He enjoyed her; she knew that, in every aspect. He did compliment her, in his own way, and he was a rather touchy boyfriend, despite the fact he generally stood a few feet away from her when they were around other people.

Her friends would have killed her if they knew. Naturally, they admired Tom Riddle because he was athletic, and smart, and had rather good people skills, but he was a Slytherin. Any Gryffindor that was spotted dating a Slytherin would be shunned! She was sure it was the same in the Slytherin house, though somehow she knew Tom would get around it... He was clever like that.

Her examinations went much better than she expected, and ending up finishing each one with time to spare. The Potions one was a little difficult, as it was never her strongest subject, but she remember Tom had helped her out on one of their rare study sessions, during which he proved to be a surprisingly good teacher.  
The parties had been so many lately. The Seventh Years were getting ready to ship off and away. It was the first time Minerva felt sad about the eldest in her house leaving, mainly because she had been so close to all of them since her very first year at Hogwarts.

While all of her friends were dying for her to come down to Hogsmeade that night, the last night of the Sixth Year as a student, Minerva was forced to decline.

"Aw, c'mon..." George moaned, standing before her in a t-shirt and shorts, as it was officially one of the warmer days of the year, "It'll be fun!"  
"I've been to too many parties," she sighed, shaking her head, "I'm just going to recheck my luggage, then go bed... I'll meet up with you all at breakfast."  
"But, Minerva... It's our last chance to go out," Elizabeth moaned, "We'll be on the train tomorrow!"

Elizabeth had been revived almost a month ago, and Minerva couldn't have been happier to have her best friend back in perfect health. She still hadn't told her about Tom, which was secretly eating her up inside, but she promised herself she would do it eventually.

"I know, but we've been out almost every night since the exams finished," Minerva laughed, watching as Elizabeth quickly checked her hair in a nearby mirror, "I promise we'll have the best time on the train, all right?"  
"Fine," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Good night!" Minerva called, waving to her group of friends as they left through the portrait. The rest of the room was buzzing loudly as students flew around, tossing unneeded papers into the fireplace, or lugging bags up to a friend's dorm to finally break the rules and sleep there. Couples were publicly expressing their affection on some of the couches in the rear, and Minerva instantly felt jealous. Not that it mattered; she was spending her last night at Hogwarts with Tom anyway.

As quickly as she could, she rushed up to her room and threw her black cloak on over her knee length blue skirt and white t-shirt. She wished she had nice clothes to dress up in for Tom, but that just wasn't the case. He never seemed to complain, anyway, but was getting more and more persistent in his attempt to get them _off_.  
With all the subtlety she possessed, she crept out of the Common Room, and made a run for the outdoors. They were planning on meeting down by the Quidditch Pitch, because if either were caught alone, they could simply say they were out for one last fly.

The night was warm, and it would have been nicer to be without the cloak, Minerva preferred it, as it managed to shield her in the darkness. Her hair was up in a rigid braid, and had been for a day or so. She looked horrible during exams; people rarely cared about personal hygiene when it came to the week of Hell that was known as Examination Period.

A hand suddenly shot out from behind a tree, and Minerva let out a shrill scream, swinging back at whoever it was. Tom luckily managed to dodge it, and quickly steal a kiss, "Merlin, Min... You should know it's me."  
Min. She wasn't particularly fond of the name, but the way he said it made her stomach knot, in a good way, and she always found herself grinning when he called her it.

"I know... But it's dark, Tom," she giggled, pushing herself up on her toes to give him a quick peck, "You shouldn't scare me like that."  
"What can I say?" he purred, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walked, "You have an addictive scream."

She let out another giggle, yet found she really had to crane her head up to look at him. He had gotten so tall over the past couple of months, and his voice seemed deeper. It's not like he had _just_ gotten puberty or anything, but it seemed as though he had gone through a growth spurt. She quite liked him being so much taller than she was.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Minerva asked as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head awkwardly against him, "Please don't tell me we're flying... I can't tolerate anymore flying this year."  
"Nothing like that," he mused, steering her away from the pitch and down towards a different path, one that wove through the trees to the lake, "I've got something to give you."  
"Have you now?" she inquired, suddenly feeling completely at ease with him, her body acting in the complete opposite manner as it would usually do. Tom kissed the top of her head, and finally stopped her at a little bench, halfway toward the lake and just a little into the woods. It was a little eerie, but she had Tom with her, which made everything seem slightly better. He asked her to sit, which she did, and he soon gingerly took a seat next to her, "Look... I don't think we'll see each other during the summer."

"We may," she laughed, glancing down as he placed his hand on her knee, "I-I mean... I can come around sometime and see you-"  
"Let me make it clearer," he said softly, his tone deathly serious, "We _won't_ be seeing each other this summer."  
"Oh?" she snapped, cocking an eyebrow and pushing his hand off her leg, "What makes you say that?"  
"I have a lot of... family things to do," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm off to find out a few bits and pieces... I can't have distractions."  
"I'm a distraction?" she asked, her a tone a little friendly now as she ran a hand down his cheek, smiling when he caught it and gave it a soft kiss. His eyes weren't quite as warm tonight, which made his smile seem less genuine, "Of course you're a distraction... I think about you all the time."  
"Good."

He looked as though he wanted to say something more, but instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Minerva's hand flew up to gently touch his face, immediately opening up to him. She always liked how he kissed, it was rather lazy, but there was still this power behind it that made her weak all over. Normally she had such a strong personality, but around Tom... Everything was different.

He unclasped her cloak and shoved it off her shoulders, curving his arm around her hips and pulling her up onto his lap. She let out a shocked giggle and broke the kiss, "Tom!"  
"What?" he grunted, suddenly slipping his hand under her skirt deftly, his hand traveling up to her thigh, "Something wrong, Min?"  
Her eyes quickly flickered down to where his hand was currently resting, then shook her head, "Well, no... But... Didn't you have something to... give me?"  
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he snorted, giving her another quick kiss, "But yes... Can't let myself get too carried away... Never know when I'll be able to stop."  
She laughed uncomfortably, shifting on his lap as he pulled something out of his pocket. A tiny black box; it would have taken a moron not to know what was inside it.  
"Tom," she breathed, stealing quick glances at it, "You-"  
"It's nothing much," he mused, opening the box to reveal a simple silver ring, nothing fancy at all, "Took all the money I've been nicking from people this year-"

"Tom!" she gasped, pinching his arm, "I told you to stop stealing from people!"  
He had this despicable habit of pick pocketing, and he was really too good at it.  
"But it got you this," he argued playfully, taking her hand and slipping it on her pinky, "It's small enough that no one will suspect anything... and you can wear it all the time."  
"I love it," she gushed, tilting his head up for another kiss, but he stopped her, instead opting to take her hands and hold them together.  
"Promise me you won't leave me," he ordered firmly, staring directly into his eyes, "Next year is going to be difficult... and I need to know you'll be there."  
"Of course I will, Tom," she whispered, frowning, "What-"  
"Say you promise, Minerva," Tom demanded, urgency in his tone, "Say it."  
"I promise I'll never leave you, Tom," Minerva stated, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not going to let you go."

"Good... Now, smile... Sweetheart."

And with that, Minerva McGonagall promised her own ruin to Tom Marvolo Riddle.


End file.
